


Under the Wreckage

by ikebukuro



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Frostbite, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-18
Updated: 2012-07-18
Packaged: 2017-11-10 07:53:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/463950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikebukuro/pseuds/ikebukuro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>...She'll heal. But Loki doesn't look like he's quite as lucky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under the Wreckage

  
She finds him tucked away in the twisted hull of what was once a high-end sedan, the metal scorched and melted and all evidence of anything luxurious about the vehicle burned away. She's bruised and a little bloody and the limp she's sporting makes her want to grind her teeth - but it's nothing serious. She's had worse before; she'll heal.

But Loki doesn't look like he's quite as lucky. The gaping hole in his chest bleeds a rich crimson, rivulets caught in the intricate creases of his battle leathers, a puddle forming beneath him on the cracked pavement. He's probably miserable with the pain, agonizing where he lay. A god, they called him - but they really didn't know the limits of his immortality, none of them did, not really. He could be bleeding out right here before her eyes - no, he was _definitely_ bleeding out - and she catches herself thinking, for just an instant, that this is an inglorious, ill-fitted end for someone like him.

Natasha allows herself a moment to consider the twinge of understanding that blooms in her subconscious before she shoves it back. Even wounded, Loki is a predator. Sympathy is likely to get her killed.

But even if his gaze is sharp like fresh cut emeralds, those eyes don't glitter - they're dull and getting dimmer, and Natasha thinks she sees despair creeping in quick.

Almost absently, she shifts her weight from her good leg, to the bad, then back again. Her throat is raw from shouting, from the acrid smoke and the ragged heat; her voice is hoarse when she speaks, soft and huskier than she'd normally like when she asks.

"Is this your first time?"

She doesn't know why she says it - she doesn't expect an answer anyway - but she's battle-weary and bone tired so maybe her curiosity gets the best of her. She continues, because the glazed look in his eye looks like it sharpens for a moment, even if he's not talking.

"The first time hurts like hell, and there's always the fear. I'd tell you to just go with it, that it's human to be afraid - but you do your best not to be anything close to human, so I'll spare you the pep talk."

Her leg hurts, like hell. It's not a good idea but she really doesn't care - she just let's the sore weight fold beneath her and drops down onto glass-littered concrete with an exhalation like a hiss. 

"I'd offer you something, but I stopped carrying morphine years ago. So you're just going to have to muscle through this part. I won't bother to ask if you're good with pain. But I'll hope you go quick, because enemy or no, I wouldn't wish an extended period of this on anyone."

He's watching her, she can feel it - she feels it like a doe feels the wolf nearby. But she's not running and he's not leaping; the battle's over.

"I suppose your people might worship a death in battle - but it's not so great when you're going yourself. You start to think and to wonder. That part is no good either, so don't dwell on it, Loki." She uses his name because she feels like she needs to, because she needs to acknowledge who this is. Sometime ally, but mostly, _usually_ , adversary - that was Loki. Enemy of the day. Loser of the battle.

_Loki_.

Idly, she reaches over with one hand, to brush back a stray lock of his hair from his forehead, head tipped at a shallow angle, lips hovering on the edge of a contemplative frown. Something was worrying at the back of her thoughts but it wouldn't come. Her head hurts and she is fairly sure she is concussed. But that isn't anything new. She keeps talking, half to fill the ringing silence that seems to settle in her ears, and to address that dull, narrow-eyed glare he's giving her.

"I don't do religion, so I'm not sure what blessings to give a dying man, much less a dying god. I don't think they wrote rules on this kind of thing." She offers him a brief, crooked smile, barely a twist of her lips. "So I guess, go peacefully, and live a better life this next time around. Maybe if we meet again, it won't be on opposite sides of a battlefield."

She pauses, then huffs softly - and the sound is not quite a laugh as she looks down into his pale face. 

"I think I could have liked you, under different circumstances." She leans back a little, that same barely-there smile on her lips. "Maybe next time?" 

There's something like a flicker in his eyes, a brightening. For a second she thinks he's going to say something.

But in the next second he's gone, _completely._ He vanishes - as do the pool of blood and the smeared, bloody handprints on the pavement. Natasha has an instant to curse - to admit she should have known better - but it's already too late.

From behind, long pale fingers trace the line of her throat and cool breath fans across her cheek. She feels the heat of him against her back, the pressure of his presence against the line of her spine. Lips brushed the shell of her ear and almost instinctively, she jerks away from it - but he sinks one hand into her hair and holds her still, right where he wants her.

Natasha's heard thuds - once - and skips the next beat altogether.

And like Loki can hear it, he laughs lowly, the sound velvety soft. Amused. Compelling. His head dips - she swears he breathes her in - and his words are like a dark whisper against her cheek.

" _Next_ time, little spider - will be the _last_ time."

Then, like a whistle in the wind, he's _gone_ \- and Natasha's breath rushes out in a hoarse exhalation, her heart slamming behind her rib cage.

"Yeah," she murmurs to no one, "I'll see you there."  


**Author's Note:**

> Note: Just a random little thing I wrote for a friend on the spur of the moment with my Loki/Natasha feels.


End file.
